Purity
by liliaeth
Summary: A new messiah has been born and his name is ... Richie Ryan(!!!??)
1. Searching the Light

purity1 ****
    
    Title: Purity
    **Author**: Lore Krajsman and Heather Darrow
    Rating PG 15, slight slashiness if you can call Willow/Tara that.
    **Summary**: A new messiah has been born and his name is ... Richie Ryan(!!!??)
    **Notes**: please don't send me flames over the subject matter, I know I'm using
    religion rather circumspectly.
    But hey if the PTB can do it why can't we?
    Previous parts of this series can be found at
    [http://members.nbci.com/liliaeth][1]
    Return to Madness at
    [http://members.nbci.com/_XMCM/liliaeth/fanfiction/eigen/madness.htm][2]
    and Lone Horseman in Sunnydale at
    [http://members.nbci.com/_XMCM/liliaeth/fanfiction/eigen/horsemaninsunnydale.htm][3] 
    
    This story should be readable on its own, but just for the sake of clarity.
    Temlan is Methos younger brother, they have the same mother.
    The immortal Jo'lon es Liliaeth an Dograi, also known as Lilith.
    Lilin is Temlans wife and a former slave of the Horsemen.
    The two of them are Spikes parents
    Temlan killed Connor MacLeod to avenge the Kurgans death.
    Duncan was possessed by Ahriman in Lone Horseman and was responsible for massmurder.
    He is still trembling from its aftershocks.
    Richie found out he's Jo'lons choice for winning the Prize in Destiny. She sent
    her son Kaine to keep him from being killed by Duncan's blade.
    **Lore and Heather**

****

Purity  
  
by Lore and Heather 

A young girl is huddled down in the back of an alley. Someone is standing over her. She shrieks back even more. The light flashes from a big coca cola commercial and shows the face of a vampire.  
Spikes face.  
He pulls back in pain, still unable to hurt.  
He growls turns round and stomps away discussed with himself again.  
"Damn it damn it ..." The litany goes on almost endlessly.  
The blond vampire stalked towards the slums, his body taut with anger and hunger. Rats scurry away at his feet. He dropped down, trying to catch one. Most get away, but when he tries to bring one to his mouth pain once again takes him over. He falls down on his knees.  
"Ooh a pretty boy. Nice and ready for us."  
Spike turns at the sudden sound.  
"Hey, lookie at the poor rich white mutha. His pet got away!" Crooned another voice sarcastically as several young men emerge from the shadows.  
"You..."  
Spike turns around. His face turns into that of his demon.  
"Scared, boy?" The gang troupes around him calling out names and insults.  
"Ooh we got us a little freak boy. What do you think we do with freaks like you, boytoy."  
They don't seem to realize that what they're dealing with could be dangerous.  
Just a bunch of idiot bigots who have no idea at all.  
Spike hunches over, ready to attack, to hell with the pain. He'll shred them apart even if it kills him.  
"Ooo, tough guy. Like knives, boy toy?"  
Spike growls at their words. He gets ready to jump at one of them and falls down, grabbing his head in pain.  
"Well, I guess he does. Poor li'l boy. Let's give him what he wants." One of them takes Spike by the hair and starts beating up on him but it looks like they have more planned.  
In the darkness of the alley someone is watching it all. At first there's a smirk on her face but then she sees the vampire lying on the ground in pain and rushes in to join them.  
"Hey boys. This a private party or can anyone join in."  
One of the guys whistles as he sees her.  
"Oo hoo hoo! Baby doll! Join in the fun, gorgeous!"  
She comes closer, her grin increases as she takes in the men. They look slimy. Suddenly she turns on them in a flurry of kicks and punches.  
Before Spike could even blink, his attackers were lying on the ground.  
He looked up at her. "Buffy?"  
She doesn't answer, just picks him up in her arms and carries him away.  
He faints from his wounds.

****

Part one 

****

Chapter One

Xander was packing his stuff. He strongly tried not to look at Anya as he did so.  
"Xander, why do you have to go? Methos can find this Richie by himself!"  
He kept looking at his bag. Not sure what to answer. To be honest he'd felt stupid about it as soon as he'd offered his help. Yet part of him felt he had no choice but to go. Only thing he could come up with was that it was Asmodeus. Maybe he should refuse to go, just to smite the ancient body thief. Then images coursed through his mind, of the fight with Ahriman, other fights of what would happen if the demon was not stopped and the boy would die. Xander knew he had to go, he just didn't like it  
"Anya... " he started. She wouldn't let him finish.  
"Xander, this is mad. You've been like this ever since that old spook took you over!"  
"You haven't seen what I've seen." he suddenly yelled out. "The death, the hopelessness, the despair." He closed his eyes and balled his fists.  
"This won't just blow over. Buffy can't stop it, neither can Giles or Willow or Tara, or even Angel ... and ..."  
She sighs. "Xander. I know you think this is important. But I don't see what having to find one guy has anything to do with it."  
He nearly fell down on the bed. "I'm the only one who can do this." He didn't know why, but he knew it was the truth.  
"Well.. then... you should know that I might not be here when you get back."  
"But ..." he stared at her. "Why? Anya, I love you.", the words came as more of a surprise even to himself than he'd expected.  
He loved her. He really really did love her. But he really didn't have a clue what to say to make her stay.  
She blinks, surprised as well. She sighs again. "Because I don't know if this'll happen again. And if it does..." She hugs herself a bit.  
"This?" He wondered what she was talking about. "You mean my having to go?"  
She nods grimly.  
He looked at her, ready to stammer any excuse, to say he'd never leave her after this. But he knew it would be lies and he couldn't lie to her. Then he said the one thing he hadn't wanted to say. The one thing he'd refused to propose, scared that she might get hurt.  
"Come with us then."  
She blinks. "What?"  
"I can't live without you." he said before whispering his greatest fear. "Without you, I don't know if I have anything to hang on to anymore. Anything to keep me from just handing over my life to that Asmodeus. At least he has use to someone. Even if it were to some ancient whatever that happens to still be out there somewhere."  
She closes her eyes, thinking quickly. Then they open, and she nods. "All right."  
He grabs her in his arms.   
Sun shines on them, turning it into a nice romantic scene despite the dampness of the basement.  
"Can we have sex now?"

*******

Methos sat at the bar, staring at the glass of beer in front of him. Temlan had just left, raging in fury, Duncan refused to wake up, and when he was awake the man was constantly blaming himself and refused to look anyone in the eye. Lilin was out looking for Spike and both Buffy and the vampire were amongst the missing. He sighed, and sat up a bit, scooping up the glass and bringing it to his lips, taking a long swallow. He was trying to forget, trying to ignore what Ahriman had told him, trying to ...  
He concentrated on Richie. To be honest he'd barely known the kid. Most of the time he'd just been the annoying sidekick that he'd tolerated in order to be close to MacLeod. Then the boy up and died and Methos had been forced to think about him. This wasn't supposed to be the way things worked out.  
It just wasn't.  
He set the glass down and stared into the foam thoughtfully.  
"How could things have possibly gone so bloody wrong in so short a time." he muttered under his breath.  
He didn't care for a second about who might be listening to him. Because of that he ignored the two men who were sitting in a corner in the back. Not to mention the woman who joined them a moment later.  
He sighed again, glancing around.  
Then he looked back. It was as if the woman was staring at him oddly. He wondered why. His eyebrows furrowed, studying the girl staring at him a bit more closely. The black boy next to her seemed to glare at him as if he were something that you tried to get of the bottom of your shoes.

Suddenly, an evil thought struck him, and he turned back, lunging to his feet and roaring at the two. "OOOGA BOOOGA!"  
Gunn shrieked up and pulled a stake in less than a second. Angel and Cordelia got up as well while Wesley spilled his drink.  
Methos snickered. "Sorry."  
"Have we... met somewhere before?"  
The girl seemed flustered. She didn't seem to know what to say.  
"Are you sure we have to help him Angel." Gunn suddenly said.  
"Say what?" He blinked at the black kid.  
"Er, eh, nothing..." He mutters, furrowing his eyebrows. Methos isn't convinced, and looks at the imposing (if gorgeous) chap still staring at him as though not sure what to make of him.  
Things started to turn in Methos' head, a thought suddenly hit him.  
"Angel?" The Slayers ex?  
"Just wondering, you wouldn't happen to be the vamp that had his little mad girl toy kill my godson Billie, would you?"  
Methos grinned.  
"I know he was a bloody awful poet. But did you really have to turn him in a vamp to get him to stop?"  
"He's now even more annoying than before." he added as an afterthought.  
If Angel were breathing, he would've choked.  
As it were Cordelia had to slap him on his back to get him to close his mouth.  
Methos smirked. He couldn't help it. The vampire just reminded him to much of MacLeod. 

****

Chapter two 

Spike squirmed a little and moaned as he came round.  
He practically screamed as he saw who was hovering over him. "Buffy?! What're you...??!!"  
The Slayer was taking care of his wounds and he was both revolted as he was fascinated. His mind giggled at the thoughts creeping into it and into his pants.  
"Ummm... nice cleavage, doll." He drawled, expecting to get slapped.  
She didn't disappoint him.  
Then she seemed to feel slightly guilty.  
"Owtch." Spike tried to get up, his ribs hurt, he could feel where one of the gang members boots had hit him. The guy had been wearing metal tips.  
He sighs. "Hell of a bedside manner you have."  
"Oh shut up. Be glad I didn't leave you for those bozos. I'm sure they knew what to do with you."  
"And you don't."  
"Stake you, it's what I should have done a long time ago."  
"Then why don't you?"  
He got up slightly, trying to ignore the pain and looking at her oddly seductive.  
"Or aren't you 'up' to it."  
She shoved him back down again, making him wince as a broken rib shifted. "Later, stud. We'll discuss it later."  
He wanted to say more, but the pain kicked all the air out of his dead lungs.  
He just looked at her as she fastened the bandages around his chest. Her fingers touching his cold white skin. Of course at that moment the door open to reveal a stunned looking Angel.  
"Well, if it isn't the white knight." Spike grinned at the sight of his grandsires eyes as the darkhaired vampires mouth fell open in shock. "Or should that be the 'Dark Knight'?"  
"The Slayer and I were just playing doctor, feel like joining in?"  
"Ah, no, thank you." Angel stuttered out, trying to hold in his anger. His jealousy. 

Buffy stood broken in silence. Not sure what to do. Riley was dead. He'd never be back. And now Angel was here and ...  
She looked over at Spike and got up faster than she'd imagined possible. A few hours after Angel popped into the room, Spike was seated between the cursed vampire and Methos, glancing between them thoughtfully. Angel was being his usual brooding self and for some reason his uncle was doing a damn fine imitation of one  
"You know, I've always wanted to know what it would be like to sit between two gargoyles..." He began, then cringed under the twin glares he received.  
Buffy arrived with a platter. She seemed to be trying not to look at anyone.  
There were two mugs with blood, one glass of beer and a cola.  
"Thanks love."  
Angel gave Spike an even worse glare after those words.  
"Hey I'm wounded here."  
Methos rolled his eyes. He couldn't help it. What was it about that vampire that made sane people go insane? And want to stake him? Can't forget about that one? He hadn't had that big an influence on the kid, had he?

"OK, can it with the ice machine." For a second the grim mood was broken.  
Xander came in, took one look at Angel and groaned. "Oh it's dead boy. As if one big brooder isn't enough for this place.'  
The mortal boy got scowled at.  
"What?"  
Xander lifted his eyes to the sky. "You hurt me with your ... eyes."  
"Very funny, Xander. Have a seat, we may as well wait for the rest of this coffee klatch to start"  
"Sure anything to get away from the brood master upstairs." He fell down on the couch.  
"MacLeod still doing his best impression of a stone wall?"  
"Ding, Right in one. Give the man a prize."  
"What've I won, Charley?" Spike mutters dryly as he leans back a bit.  
"One caring conversation with his royal suicidalness. Man that guy has to cheer up and soon. Or I might think about taking a sword in hand myself."  
Methos shuddered at those words. "Please don't. As the next-nearest Immortal, *I* would get his Q. And I don't like to think of what it would do to my already sunny disposition."  
Buffy nodded her head in agreement. What had she possibly done to deserve this?  
Wesley and Gunn came from the kitchen. Cordelia was still in the bathroom. She'd found a split end and of course that had to be dealt with first. Plus, she didn't seem to want to face Xander for some reason.  
Methos grinned and waved at Wes and Gunn.  
Gunn still had no idea about Spike. Yet he could feel there was something wrong about the blond Englishman.  
"Boys, have you met my DEAR nephew?" Methos lunged over and put an arm around Spike's shoulders. Spike tried to get away, but in between his wounds and Methos' grip, he was helpless as a kitten. The vampire was mere seconds away from showing his true face at his uncle.  
"Isn't he *adorable*?" Methos kept right on going. "Apple of my sister-in-law's eye."  
"Ah uncle, do you think mom would like it if you hurt my already bruised self?"  
"You'll heal." He strengthened his grip. "Its not like you'll DIE from it."  
"Yeah and you and mom are such good friends that she'd just give you a cookie if I did."  
"Very funny." He let go of the vampire but took a nice long look at the closed of window. As if wondering about the sunlight outside.  
"Say Slayer, I heard you and this cous of mine almost got married once, what was the story about that?" Methos loved to ruffle her feathers. A very easy thing to do it seemed, with Angel in the room. The two vampires sitting to his left give him such filthy looks that he can almost feel his skin burning. 

Chapter Three  
Meanwhile, upstairs, MacLeod rolled over restlessly. He had been trying to sleep since Xander left, but Morpheus was once again eluding his grasp. Images kept coursing in front of his eyes. Innocent people, death, destruction. How could he have let that happen. He was a monster. 

He rolled over again and pressed his face into the pillow. /Oxygen deprivation should knock me out.../ He could almost feel his mind losing itself in the darkness when a sudden burst of Quickening rang through his very being. A Quickening both stronger than he'd ever faced, yet familiar in a way he'd never imagined possible. He pushed himself up quickly with a gasp, searching instinctively for a sword that wasn't there.  
The door went open and a boy came in. Not yet a man, but not really a child either. The kid gave him a strong look and leaned up against the wall. His eyes never leaving their goal..  
Macleod's dark eyes went to the newcomer. "Who are you?"  
The boy didn't answer. Not immediately. He kept staring at the Highlander. Then a smile filled his face.  
"I'm Loki."  
MacLeod had heard the name before. From myths, legends, stories immortals told each other to scare themselves and all around. He hissed a little and rolled away from the boy.  
The boy just kept on grinning. "You've heard of me. Should I feel flattered?"  
"What do you want from me, Loki?"  
The boy looked up, thoughtfully. "I'm not sure yet." He crossed his hands in front of himself. "I've been after you once before you know."  
Mac blinked, not comprehending.  
"You were visiting that kinsmen of yours back in Scotland. " A mean glint appeared in the boys eyes. "I'd just killed his little bitch. Brenda Wyat I believe her name was."  
MacLeod hissed again, angrily this time. "You!"  
"Now now boy. No reason to get upset. This time, Methos isn't here to save you again."  
Temlan remembered that moment. Wanting to challenge the boy, the one the Highlander cared about. Methos sudden appearance, his plea not to do it. For his sake. His giving up and falling in tears for his student, his son. As the memories came up, the grief rose with it.  
The boy got closer before MacLeod could even blink. He sat down on the bed and put down his head on the sheets.  
Seemingly defenseless. "I could kill you if you want. Take away all the guilt, all the pain, ... all the memories." 

MacLeods dark eyes flicked to Loki, studying him shrewdly. "You're not going to, now are you?" the Highlander suddenly said. "You'd have already done it if you were planning to."  
The boy just kept up his grin and looked straight into the Scots eyes. "I don't know. Might be fun to have two MacLeods inhere instead of just one." His words were uttered completely calm as he pointed at his head.  
Duncan froze. "Funny thing Vengeance."  
The boy pulled out a smoke and lit it. "One moment you're all self righteous claiming it for a loss, the next someone else is saying the same about theirs." He blew out some smoke. His head buried deeper in the sheets.  
Duncan coughed a little at the smoke. Part of him wanted to tell the kid off for smoking, then he realized how much older the 'boy' was than himself.  
"Again, what do you want? "  
The boy pulled up his leg and rolled on his side. "I want my brother back." The boy looked down away from the Highlander. "I'm here with a chip stuck in my head, preventing me from killing any living being and that quertaz is downstairs being worried about 'you'. The boy gave him an accusing glare.  
MacLeod winced. He couldn't help it. "What brother?" was all he managed to get out.  
"I finally killed the butcher that murdered my son Gerinn. You know what the first thing was that he told me?"  
"What?"  
"How you would react if you found out I killed that bastard MacLeod. Why is he like that?" The boy sighed. "He's got an entire family, ready for him at any moment. I'm his brother. I've been there for him, most of my life. But when it comes down to it.... He chooses you. A mere child." A knife appeared in the boys hands almost as if by magic.  
MacLeod shrunk back. "Who are you talking about?" he practically shouted.  
A terrifying suspicion started forming in his mind. "Methos??" 

The boy just nodded. "For 5000 years I stood at that idiots back and call. Yet for you, he drops me in a heartbeat." Duncan was left grasping for air, part of him longing for the cut, the other terrified of what awaited him after death.  
"I force my wife to be civil to him, despite what he's done to her. And he takes you over me." The knife ends up on Duncan's throat. "So tell me Highlander. What is it about you that makes him care so much?"  
Duncan could see he was serious. "I don't know. I wish I did."  
The boy turned around, the knife ended up embedded in the wood of the ceiling. The boy was practically growling. Duncan panted quietly and collapsed back on the bed. Temlan pulled the door open and stormed down the stairs. His hand hit the railing, he jumped over it and landed on the ground. 

****** 

Methos half-jumped out of his skin at the loud thump. His heart nearly froze when he saw his brother coming from MacLeods room. if it wasn't for the lack of Q, he'd be getting scared now.  
"Temlan! What the hell is going on?!"  
"Nothing. What do you care." His words were shouted in Dagala, a language so old that even their mother had not been there for its creation.  
"You're my brother, and my friend, now talk to me!" He returned sharply in the same tongue. "Temlan, please! What would our mother say?"  
"Nothing. As usual." Temlan thought about his mother. The woman loved him. As much as she ever could anyway. But to her, he, Methos, ... all of them were cannon fodder  
"Temlan, we *need* you."  
"Why? You haven't needed me before. Why would you need me now?" the boy balled his fists. "You didn't even call me when Kronos showed up. I had to hear about it from Cassandra. If she hadn't called Lilin you wouldn't even have let me know.."  
"What do you want me to say, Temlan?"  
"Nothing, anything. For once I want you to put me before something else. I'm dying here, I can't even properly defend my wife and you're planning to just go of to look for some kid that might or might not be the savior. What does that say?" Methos winced. "That boy upstairs..." Temlan looked down reflectively. "You're leaving him too aren't you."  
"I don't have a choice... he's not fit to travel..."  
"You haven't even asked me and I'm more than fit to travel." Their eyes crossed again "Why is that?"  
"Because I somehow get the feeling that you wouldn't care to go."  
"I wouldn't?" he muttered, thinking about it. Would he really be that shallow, to just not care. To be honest. Methos was right. Lilin needed him. And to be even more honest, the thought of the Ai'kan'she being for real scared him. More than anything. The myth was one thing, but the reality of the pure one ... It was the end. The true beginning of the end and he was far from ready for it.  
He hadn't been ready to die as a 16 year old boy looking up at his mother who was about to kill him, to put him out of his misery. He hadn't been ready to die when Methos tortured him into insanity. And he still wasn't ready for it.  
"Yes, Temlan. You wouldn't. Because I know you too well."  
"I care about people." he suddenly brought out. Almost as if a claim of some care kept him from being some kind of inhuman monster.  
"Really?" Methos put his hand on the boys shoulder. "How many people have you 'really' been close to in the past 5000 years. You tell me that."  
"Enough." Temlan turned away. "And they died. Almost all of them."  
Grayson, Hyde, Gerinn, Michael, Sean, ... All of them dead.  
Even William was dead, no matter how much his body was sitting there, smiling. Insulting the true Wills memory with that killer grin of his.  
"Then don't you think its time you started caring about someone new?"  
"Like who? That little boy of yours upstairs? Even if I would care about him. He'd hate me now."  
"Give him a chance; he's hurting. And Richie? Even if he *is* the Ai'kan'she, he's still a person."

Temlan easily ignored even thinking about 'Richie'. He didn't want to think about the pure one, cause to think of him, meant that one day he might have to give up Lilin, and he didn't ever want to do that. It was easier to just concentrate on the other one.  
"I killed his teacher, you think he'll just forgive and forget?"  
"I'm sure, given time... while he might not forgive and forget entirely, he might see his way past it."  
"And you know this because ..."  
"Because I know him."  
"What you've known him five, maybe six years. I knew the Kurgan his entire life. Will your buddy understand that I will 'never' feel sorry about avenging his death.  
"I'm sure he can see past it."  
"3000 years kéfu."  
"I still miss him.'"  
"I know, kéfu sù" He murmurs. "Even now I still miss Kronos. I don't know why, I just do."  
Temlan turned away, and looked at the room. "I'll look out for him kéfu. Just ..." his hand held on to the railing "don't stay away to long."

   [1]: http://members.nbci.com/liliaeth
   [2]: http://members.nbci.com/_XMCM/liliaeth/fanfiction/eigen/madness.htm
   [3]: http://members.nbci.com/_XMCM/liliaeth/fanfiction/eigen/horsemaninsunnydale.htm



	2. The Messiah

purity2 ****

Part Two 

There were over ten tables in front of him. All of them had to be either emptied or their orders asked. He balanced two trays with empty dishes, while getting ready to pick up a third on his other arm. Navigating through the maze of tables took all his concentration. Therefore it wasn't all that surprising that he nearly lost it all when an intense feeling of wrongness hit him in the gut. He had no idea what it meant, all he knew that it had to do with the new arrivals. Big, huge guys, with guns. "Shit..." He hissed to himself, trying to keep himself steady. Some man started screaming, others just froze. One kid that was in the middle of biting in a sandwich nearly choked. He carefully set the trays down and turned towards the men. "Now, guys, please, don't start any trouble..." The men pointed at him and Richies heart nearly froze when he recognized the language.  
Dagala. 

He immediately took a step back, looking for possible exits. "No, I don't want to go..."  
He shook his head firmly. The big brutes didn't seem to want to listen. Two of them grabbed for Richies arms. Richie tried to resist, but the guys were simply humongous. He froze when he felt a Q entering his sensing range. The man coming in wasn't anything special. He was dressed in a simple outfit. If he weren't immortal, he could have been anyone you met on the street. He squirmed again. "Lemme go, goddamnit!"  
"Forgive me pure one. But the world needs you to much, to let you stay free." The immortal took one of the brutes guns and pointed it at Richie.  
"No!"  
A burst of Quickening started breaking out of the young immortal. Richie didn't even know how he did it, but it effectively pushed the immortal away from him.  
He pants, blinking. "Wow!" 

The brutes were shaking, but they still didn't let go. Their grip was a bit less tight though. He squirmed a bit more, making another attempt to get loose. He kicked on one of the guys feet and tumbled in between them, Wringing himself out of their hold and ending up behind them. There was a door there. 'Oh spirits please, let me get away'. He turned and made a break for it. A guy was standing behind it, but he didn't let the man stop him. His bike was under surveillance as well, no way to get to it. A small family car was waiting at the drive through. It was the only way out. He ran to it and pulled the door open. A minister turned his eyes to him. "Sir, sir, please, can you give me a ride outta here, there's a bunch o' guys after me and I need to get outta here *now*." 

The immortal came running out. "Stop the Ai'kan'she. In Liliths name, stop him." Richie made a little noise of fear and scrambled into the back seat as best he could. The minister saw the men with guns and noticed the claws skipping out of the hands of some of them. He looked at the boy in the back seat that was trying to hide next to his son. Then he hit the gas, the door trailing behind for a second before he got it closed.  
"Thanks, I owe you one!" Richie gasped out.  
"What are those guys? And what do they want from you?" Richie was trembling. The escape had been a slight bit to narrow for his taste. Not to mention the shocks he'd sent out. How had he done that. He looked at his hands, still not fully understanding.  
"I don't know, God, I don't know..." He knew alright, but how could he tell a priest, a man of god that a woman who'd stood model for Lilith, wanted him to be the messiah. That she was crazy enough to believe him of all people to be ... Christ. He hugged himself a bit. The kid looked at him in shock. Still a bit startled by the sight of the guns. Richie had a moment of worry about the mortals in the diner. Then again, the Dograi had no reason to harm them. They were simply bystanders. He finally sighed gently, and offered a hand to the boy sitting beside him. "Hi. I'm Richie." 

"Aaron." the kid said. "Those were real weren't they. The guns."  
He nods grimly. "I think so, yeah..."  
"Cool."  
Richie looked at the kid Would he endanger these people by staying with them? Maybe he should just let the man drop him of. "Umm, could you just drop me off at like a 7Eleven or something, mister?"  
"Won't they just catch up with you then son? Those 'men' looked like they meant business."  
"It would be safest for your family, though."  
"Who are they?"  
Richie doubted between his hesitancy to stay silent and the need to protect. "They're cultists." Was all he finally said. It was as close to the truth as anything he could think of saying. "They keep calling me 'Ai'kan'she and things like that. I just want to get the hell away from them." 

The priest concentrated on the road. "Is there anyone you can call for help, anything... 

"Mac." Richie whispered. But he knew it was impossible. The moment he called MacLeod the Dograi would be on to him. "I can't call anyone." He finally stated. "Not without getting myself and everyone else into a whole lot of trouble. 

The minister sighed. "Then we're in a bit of a fix, aren't we? Well, don't worry. We've got an extra room we can put you in for a while, until you can head on out on your own."  
"But..." Richie looked in the mans eyes and knew resisting would be useless. "You don't even know me..." was all he said.  
This wasn't normal, most people he knew wouldn't give a damn about a stranger like him. And Priests ... he could only use his own experience as background, but the ones he met, cared about nothing but sin and shame. Few of them would set themselves on the line for someone they'd just barely met.  
"Sir... I..." He sighed. "Thank you..."  
"Don't worry about it." He smiled faintly, and settled back in the seat. 

****

Chapter 1

Kyle jabbed his spoon fiercely into the pint of Haagen Daaz strawberry sorbed, shoveling the tart pink substance into his face as his feet carried him in an even circle around the coffee table, strains of Beethoven's fifth symphony filling the air. /Dear spirits, Mother's gonna be *pissed* when she finds out we didn't get the boy back.../  
He closed his eyes, trying not to look at the Dograi at the door. They were as upset as he was probably more. They had failed Liliaeth. The mother.  
"Please tell me at least one of you got that cars plate written down."  
They had to find the thing, the fate of the world depended on it. Literally.  
"Get in touch with the local community." Kyle said." See if there are any ... of the other communities around."  
"Ah, y-yes, sir."  
"And be careful, for Liliths sake!"

He kept staring at the door when the two Dograi left, following their every move out of the door. After a few moments, he resumed his pacing and eating. Unsure what to do actually. The eating was more a way of keeping his hands busy than out of a real hunger. And the cold helped draw his attention to *that* instead of the throbbing tension-headache that was starting to blossom between his temples.

"Why can't he just follow his destiny like he's supposed to." he muttered. "He gets the world offered to him on a golden platter, why doesn't he just take the chance."  
As a loyal son of Lilith, Kyle would never admit it, but he was jealous. Jealous of the importance his mother put into the boy, jealous of his meaning and jealous of his fate. Part of him wanted to just let the boy get lost, but he'd never do it. Mother wanted him and what mother wanted she got. Finally, he gave up on the sorbed, and set it on the coffee table, flopping heavily onto his back on the couch, an arm draped over his eyes. 

******** 

Preparation for dinner at the Linden's was a running, hollering affair. The kids were running around, working off some energy and washing their hands before heading for the table. Elizabeth, their mother, brought out a couple of covered dishes and set them in the middle of the dinner table; the odors were enough to make Richie's mouth water.  
Soon, everyone was seated, and Minister Linden glanced around.  
"Richie, would you like to do the dinner prayer?"  
Richie gulped. Prayers? He didn't remember any. He closed his eyes to the last time he'd heard a diner prayer. The only thing that came up was Jo'lon. He said the prayer before he could stop himself "Spirit of the earth, that which bides us. Spirit of the sun that which warms us Spirit of the wind that which guides us Spirit of water that shows us the path. Bless this food, that comes from thy womb, bless this food that comes from thee. Great spirits that form the one. Guide us to the light."  
"Is that a prayer?" Cody, the youngest whispered to his mother. "He didn't even say grace."  
"Hush, honey, he did. It was just... said differently." She patted the boy's hand gently.  
Richie blushed slightly. "I'm sorry, its just that my mother ..." he didn't continue talking. Talking about Jo'lon as a mother, it still felt weird.  
"Its all right." Mrs. Linden started.  
"It's not about the way we worship son, it's about what's in our hearts that's important." The priest added as an extra.  
Richie couldn't help but flinch a little at that, but didn't make a comment as the food was being dished up. Sloppy Joes and oven-fries.  
The minister started in and soon his family joined in. Richie tried to follow the rules of politeness. Still not sure what to do. When dinner was over he was the first to offer to help with the dishes. Elizabeth blushed, about ready to turn him down, saying that he's a guest. Then she looked in his eyes and understood that he needed to feel useful to give something back for what he got. She quickly threw him a towel.

********

Kyle slammed the door shut. The meeting hadn't gone well. Apparently the only vamps in town were demonbreed. And most of those were not all that likely to do anything to 'save' the world, instead of destroying it. Damn hell spawn. Worst thing, their complete lack of concern for exposure kept the other communities away from them. They called to much attention to themselves. Slayers, the law, the watcher council of Britain ... The smarter vamps wouldn't go near them if they got half the chance.  
At least now the Dograi were ready. If they even got a hint of the boys presence, they would let him know. 

He sat down on his couch, grabbing a book of Sartre while waiting for the others to return with news. He fluffed his pillow a bit before placing his head on it. God how much of this mission could still go wrong?

****

Chapter 2

Richie sat in the back of the church waiting for the reverend to finish the sermon. He couldn't believe his luck. The way the man and his family had just accepted him despite his strangeness. The man was good, Richie had never followed a protestant service, and his own education by the nuns was rather different from this. After the service was completed, everyone fled out. Some of the kids started playing rough on the church lawn, running and laughing. Richie sat with the reverend and his family for diner. There was a fair going on and most of the people seemed rather happy.

Cody, the reverends youngest son was climbing in a tree. Richie had noticed him earlier, but since the reverend didn't seem to mind he hadn't said anything.  
The boy was getting dangerously high  
More and more people started looking up. Mrs. Linden tried to get him to come down, but the kid wouldn't listen. Suddenly a high scream pierced the air and everyone caught their breath as the boy fell. Richie watched in shock. Oh great spirits, no!  
He ran up to the scene like everyone else. The boy, Cody, just lay there, his neck in a weird twist, he wasn't breathing.  
It was clear to everyone that he was dead. His small body lacking any motion. Some of the mothers grabbed their children to them, hiding the gruesome sight of their broken friend.  
It had all just happened so fast.

Richie could see the tears start forming on Mrs. Lindens face. There was no choice, not really.  
The rest happened as if in slow motion.  
"Cody... no!" He dropped to his knees by the body, reaching out carefully to brush a few strands of hair from the boy's face, wiping some of the blood from his skin.  
His eyes lifted to the heavens, how could this happen.  
The words left his mouth, as if driven out by some unspoken force.  
"I beg thee holy ones, set right what went wrong."  
A light started forming under his fingers, he held on as flashes of Quickening left him for the boy.  
The crowd stared, a miracle was taking place.

Not a breath was released, shock spread over the crowd as the kid started coughing, breathing again.  
Richie shivered and started falling. Exhaustion clear in his eyes.  
Elizabeth caught him before he could collapse completely, supporting him.  
There was gratitude in her eyes, gratitude and something more. Wonder, bewilderment, ... something unexplainable had just happened.

The reverend was still in shock.  
All he knew was that his son had been dead.  
Dead, not just wounded, dead, and yet, he was alive again.  
Eric Linden had never been a believer in those faith-healers. To him they were nothing more that money wolves out to get the last penny out of their believers.  
But this denied description. There was no trick, no illusion.  
His son had been dead and he was alive again.  
People started crowding in, the shock finally slightly fading. All wanting to touch the boy, the healer, he saw terror in the boy eyes as they gathered round. 

Eric grabbed his hand and pulled him along with him to safety, the rectory should be fine. It would be out of the eyes of the crowd at least.  
Elizabeth stayed behind to make sure their son was all right.  
People wanted to see him, to see the proof, to know that what had happened was for real. Maybe the kid had just been unconscious. Maybe they'd just imagined his broken neck. But there was blood on the rocks underneath the place he had fallen.  
Eric could hear the crowd outside, requesting to see the boy. 

"Are you okay?"  
"Mr. Linden, w-what...?" Richie was dazed, confused, and scared.  
Eric wished he knew what had happened. He'd hoped the boy would have been able to explain, but the kid seemed as confused as he was.  
"Don't worry Richie, you don't have to go out if you don't want to."  
He eyed the wooden cross in the front of the church and said a quick prayer of thanks for the life of his son.  
"Thank you, sir..." Richie mumbled, sitting down heavily in a pew.  
"Richie are you alright."  
The reverend got worried about the boy.  
"I'm exhausted... whatever happened just now took a lot out of me."  
"What did happen?"  
"I don't know, exactly... I acted out of instinct..."  
The boy seemed thoughtful, as if not sure how to explain it himself.  
"I saw him ... Cody, lying there and I wanted him back and then he was. I ..."  
Light started oozing from the boy, like some kind of aura, spreading out as if feeding from the air around it. It seemed even stronger in the churches hazy light.  
"Oh... my God..." Eric murmured, too surprised to check himself as he staggered back.  
It was as if there was something going on between the boy and the church. The boy looked at his hands, at the ground.  
He muttered something, the only word the reverend could understand was holy ground.  
Eric panted softly, staring at the glowing boy in awe and wonder.  
"Jesus Christ." he whispered.  
"Not you too." the boy moaned almost as if in annoyance. "As if 'they' aren't bad enough with their messiah-thing." His eyes were almost begging. "I'm just a kid reverend, nothing special."   
It was as if he were begging the minister to agree with him. 

"I... I wish I could agree with you, Richie, but.. You have a very special gift."  
"I don't want it. I just want to be normal, to go out on my bike, have dates, see the world, maybe even go back to school.  
I don't want the fate of the world on my back. If only she could understand that."  
"She?"  
"Lilith, mother." The boy grasped for air. "She says that ... I have to be prepared to ... I'm not sure what she wants, she just thinks that I'm the only thing between hope and despair. Stupid isn't it?  
The priest nods. "But the fact remains that you *do* have this power, in spite of your protestations."  
"But does it have to control my life?" The boy finally stopped glowing.  
"I think that's for the powers that be to decide. And for *you*. Richie, you've obviously been chosen for something."  
"But ... I could deal with the immortality, I could really, but this ... it's too much."  
"Immor--" Blink, swallow, "Immortality?"  
"yes, the whole, 'there can be only one'-thing, living forever unless someone takes your head, your Quickening."  
Eric coughs firmly. 

****

Chapter 3

Thomas had put his feet on his desk. He was lazying a bit, fixing up a last report for his immortal. The man was moving out of the country and he'd decided to ask for a transfer. He was thinking about moving back home and visiting with Eric and his family before getting a new assignment It would be good to see the kids again. There was a bit of a commotion over at the door. Some guy had put on the television and Thomas started to wonder what was going on.  
"Holy shit! I don't believe this!" Someone cried.  
"What?"  
"Come look! They've got some kind of Saint in Nevada!"  
"Not again." A few of the more experienced watchers moaned in disgust.  
"He's in the files!:  
"Who is?" Thomas got up.  
"Ehhh... Richard 'Richie' Ryan." The watcher looked at the file and looked up, surprised. "That's impossible. Ryan's dead. Dead dead. Terminal log. File closed."  
"Then what the hell is he doing on TV??"  
"What?"  
"Look at it.  
An amateur video was shown of a boy lying on the ground, dead. And a man coming up to him.  
Thomas heart nearly froze when he saw the location. The victim. "Cody... " he whispered.  
The image showed a young looking redhead as he sat down next to the kid and touched his head.  
Sparks of blue lightening coursed in between the man and the boy.  
"The kid must be some pre-immortal. Guess we got one more Immie with a god-syndrome. As if Larca wasn't bad enough."  
"Yeah, but *Ryan*?"  
"Who's this Ryan anyway, and what do you mean he's dead?"  
"Richie Ryan. Duncan MacLeod's most recent apprentice."  
"Until MacLeod took his head three years ago."  
"Allegedly."  
"For real." the man grabbed a pen in his hands, nearly breaking it.  
"We even got pictures of the corpse, we got a grave with a body inside of it. We got ..." A noise started forming. 

Thomas didn't listen to it, something had happened to his cousin. But Cody couldn't have been a pre-immortal could he? They were all supposed to be foundlings.  
Maybe he'd been switched at birth or something.  
It happened, rarely, but still...  
"We've got Richie Ryan, on TV, handling a child-Immortal."  
Kaper was right. This was important, it was too public, to dangerous. Something had to be done.  
"I can go." Thomas said. "That kid ... he's my cousin."  
There are whistles. "You sure you can handle this?"  
"I have to. At least I won't catch attention. Eric will be expecting me to come. It's the least I can do as his brother."  
The older watcher sighed. "Okay, but be careful." He put the pencil back in his pocket. "This guy could be dangerous. If his plans are as big as they seem to be ... And if he is Ryan, he knows about the Watchers."  
"You'll want to check some steel out of the locker, then. Just in case."  
"And a huge watch." the watcher muttered.  
"Say, shouldn't we call Dawson, tell him Ryan might be alive."  
"That might not be a bad idea..."  
"The least he could do is keep the look out for him. However, if Ryan's is alive, why haven't we seen him before now. Do you think he's planning to go after MacLeod?"  
"Hmm... Somehow, I don't think so. 

******** 

Joe grumbled as he got up to the computer, the damn thing was beeping loudly, announcing the arrival of a Watcher-message.  
At the same time the phone was adding to the noise, both of them drumming in on him.  
"You have a message." the annoyingly happy tone stated.  
As if he didn't already know.  
"Joe Dawson." he said after picking up the horn.  
"Did you get the message we sent?"  
No hello, no how do you do, not any kind of niceties. This had to be big.  
He opened the file and its attachment.  
"You got to watch this. We seem to have yet another immortal with a god-complex." Joe rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.  
'Just great. And they woke me up for this nonsense.'  
The download was finished and the Watcher started the video. It seemed to be a normal church meeting. A small after service  
picnic under the sun. Then it happened, some kid fell. The person holding the camera seemed to have been frozen in midmotion, unable to stop filming. The view remained on the body of the boy that lay broken on the ground. At that point a red-haired man came up to the boy. The man seemed familiar, but Joe wasn't sure from where, just seeing his back. 

Then the man with the red curls looked up, his lips moving as he touched the boy.  
"Oh dear God..." Joe blurted, sitting down hard.  
Joe watched openmouthed as the child started coughing, a sign of returned breathing.  
"Joe we need to know. Is that Ryan or not?"  
He swallowed carefully before answering. "Y-y-yes, that's him..."  
"Then how the hell do we have a beheaded corpse with his name on it?"  
"I don't know..."  
Joe started shivering. This could not be possible. He'd seen Richies corpse. He'd touched it, he'd buried the boy. That couldn't be him. But if it were... how?  
"Where exactly did this happen. God if Mac finds out about this. I have to ..." he didn't continue what he had to.  
"Slow down, Joe. We're not even really sure if it *is* Ryan. It sure as hell looks like him, but there are no guarantees that it really *is* him."  
"But if it is..."  
Joe looked at the image of the boy that had been like a son to him. A friend. The boy that as it seemed, was still alive... He rewinds the video, watching it again, seeing the kid die and seemingly being healed.  
"Who's the boy?"  
"My nephew, Cody..."  
"Your ... Oh god, is he ...?" Joe didn't know how to ask. The boy was alive, yes, but if he was immortal now, he'd be trapped in the body of a child for the rest of his life.  
"We don't know. God, I hope not..."  
"Where is he? Maybe if I go, I can say if it's Richie or not."  
He gave Dawson the city and state and address. "I'm getting ready to go there myself..."  
"I'll meet up with you at the airport around..." he quickly searched the timetable on the internet " noon."  
"Right."  
"I'll see you there, then..." He sighed a bit.

He put down the phone and rolled himself up to the bathroom. God did he hate that wheelchair right now.  
This was about one of the only times he ever used it, in the morning, before he was to awake enough to be truly steady on his legs.  
He showered, as best as he could, then wheeled back to his bedroom to put his faux legs on and dress.  
Each year it grew harder and harder to just stand. He fought with the pain as he put the things on. No matter what, he refused to be confined to that wheelchair, as long as he could still walk.

Richie ... alive...  
Maybe he should just tell someone.  
Not MacLeod, no need to give the man false hope, but Methos ... Now where was the old man hanging out?

****

Chapter 4 

Richie sat in the kitchen. There were reporters standing outside in front of the gate. The reverend refused to let them in, but they seemed diehard stubborn to get an interview with him. He shivered at the thought of what they might think. 

"Maybe I should take my rifle out there..." The reverend muttered sourly, pacing a bit.  
He tried to fight it, but Richie couldn't help chuckle at those words. The young immortal got up and took a cup of coffee.  
"I can't use this publicity sir. If mother sees it, she'll be here in no time. She or one of the others." He gazed out of the window.  
The priest nods. "I understand. All the more reason I should chase those damn paparazzo's off with buckshot."  
He lifted the curtain a bit, looking out at the crowd. It weren't just the reporters. Other people were there as well. Normal people, who wanted their shot at meeting the man that brought a kid back to life. People who wanted his healing touch, his blessing. People who thought he was some kind of saint. 

He sighed heavily. "Richie, some of these people honestly believe in you."  
"So does mother." Richie muttered out.  
"I'm just an immortal. I can't die unless I'm beheaded, that's all." he looked at the glare the reverend gave him. "And yes I can heal people, but that's new, even for me."  
"I don't want to make them believe something that isn't real." The reverend grinned.  
"You know son, Three years ago, I was in Tucson, there was some man calling himself a minister. Each service again, he would put up this show. People would come to him and he'd heal them. Or so he claimed. I wanted to believe but as it turned out, he was a fraud." He turned back to Richie. "Now I appreciate the fact you don't want to give people false hope, but the thing is, what you can give them is real ... you can actually do the kind of things that people like that claim they can do." 

Richie sighed softly. "I guess you're right..."  
He looked at the crowd again. There were some people with children. His heightened Dograi vision showed them all. Some in wheelchairs, others ... he could see their life-force, their pain. Their hope.  
"I want to help, but if I do ... Can I live outside of this? Can I have a life further than being a healer? If I start now, will they let me live... I am not god; I am just a person. I can't help everyone."  
He sighed. "You won't know unless you try."  
"Richie, they need you. You've given some of them a hope that they didn't *have* before." 

Richie looked at the children.  
"Could you ..." he pointed at them. "Ask them to bring the blond boy in the wheelchair and the girl with the red hair. They'll die if they won't get help soon."  
The reverend nodded and stepped out carefully. Some people seemed surprised when the minister talked to them. Others seemed disappointed that they weren't asked. The reporters practically jumped at the man, he didn't seem to be all to willing to talk to them.  
The woman wheeling in the blond kid seemed exhausted. And not just she. There were tears in her eyes. Richie got away from the window and stared at them. His eyes glued to their faces for a second before he turned away.

The reverend helped the redheaded girl's father with the ailing child. The girl could barely stay up on her feet. Her eyes were red. Richie pulled up a chair for her. He smiled at her gently as she sat down delicately.  
"It hurts. Doesn't it?" He asked nicely as he put his hand on her frail hand.  
She nodded faintly.  
He moved his hand to her face.  
"The tumor is going further. I think I can heal it, but I will have to fight it. This might hurt a bit ok."  
She nodded again. Richie now took her head with both hands. He looked in her eyes and began. His hands started glowing, a pure light started playing between him and the girl. She moaned in a burst of pain for a moment. Then her face lighted up. A tear fell down her eyes.  
"The pain is gone." was all she said.

Her father crouched, looking up into his daughter's face.  
"Daddy, my eyes don't hurt no more."  
Richie got up, slightly shaken.  
"It's best if you go to a doctor, have her checked out and make sure she's fine."  
The man looked as if he was going to say something.  
"Don't." Richie didn't want his thanks. He just wanted to recover for a moment. The father smiled faintly, and nodded, and leaned over to pick up his little girl again.  
The mother of the little boy had stared at all of it. She hadn't really believed before. But now… her eyes were focussed on the girl. There was true hope now. Hope that her son too could be saved.

Richie looked at the kid, the boy was about eight. He was completely withdrawn in his chair. A mere husk of a living being. Richie could see the illness in his bones, the way his bone marrow was tainted.  
He touched the boy, his hand on the child's chest.  
"Tape'yia. May creation be willing."  
You could almost see the child get well. A healthy blush appeared on his cheeks. His form grew more firm, less breakable. Richie took a step back and fell. Shivers coursing through his body. Lightening flashes played around his body for a moment.  
Then he fell unconscious.  
The last sight he saw was that of the boy falling in his mothers arms.

****

Chapter 5

Joe steps off the plane, leaning heavily on his cane and squinting through the disgustingly cheerful sunlight. There was a man waiting for him. The guy carried a strap on bag in his hands and wore a simple black businessuit. He stepped over carefully. "Tom?"  
"Yep."  
The man was serious. He picked up his paper that he'd put on top of his bag and threw it to Joe.  
"Read this. The bastard is actually going through with it. As if there aren't enough frauds around, without adding immortals to the mix."  
He caught it, and gasped a little as he read. "Oh my god..."  
More and more people were coming on a pilgrimage to the little town of Clearbanks. All wanting to see the saint that had brought a child back to life and had healed two other ones.  
"Shit..." He whispered, folding the newspaper.  
"Tell me. Where would he get ideas like this? I heard MacLeod had delusions about being the worlds savior as well."  
"I don't know... maybe some of *that* rubbed off on him..."  
"I called my brother, Eric is sending my cousin Mike to pick us up. He doesn't dare let anyone through normally, the crowds are getting to bad. I can't get it that he actually believes all that crap."  
"I'm sure he has a reason for believing. I mean, if you were in his situation..."  
"Yes.  
"I just hope he won't be to disappointed when I tell him the truth about immortals."  
Joe sighed. "Me too..."  
Thomas looked up when he saw a group of people singing hymns step up from one of the terminals.  
"Oh no..." Joe mutters grabbing Tom's arm. "We'd better get outta here..."  
"Wh...Why." He stuttered a bit, surprised at the pictures some of them were holding. Richies picture, surrounded by a halo was emblazoned on several of them.  
"Them. I don't think we want to have to fight through *that*, now do we?"  
The watcher just nodded, staying on the look out for his cousin. 

*********

He wasn't all that comfortable with having the 16 year old giving him a ride, but he could understand that neither Eric nor Elizabeth could leave the house to pick them up right now. Joe tried to engage the young man in a bit of conversation, but gave up after several attempts. The boy seemed to be unsure what to think of the stranger. Then he suddenly said out of the blue.  
"Are you sure you had to bring him? I like Richie, I don't want him to run, because of some reporters. I mean, he may be immortal like he said, but if those people with the guns come after him again."  
"Guns?!" Joe asks, sitting forward.  
"Immortal?" Thomas blurted out.  
"Well yeah, I heard him tell dad. And Aaron told us about how him and dad first met. Man did he tell us, we wouldn't hear the end of it. Richie came running from a diner in the next town and he ran up to dads car. They were after him with guns and dad helped him out with a ride. Richie didn't want to endanger dad and Aaron but dad managed to convince him to stay." The boy blurted it all out in one breath.  
"Wow..."  
"He's so cool. I mean, I know he completely denies to be a saint or holy, like those people say, but if there really is a Christ, I'd wish him to be like Rich. He said he was going to teach me how to fix my bike and all that. Well he said that before those damn reporters came to bother him."

Joe sighs heavily. "Some people..."  
"As if he'd mind." Thomas muttered darkly. "He said he was immortal?"  
Joe pokes Tom firmly in the shoulder for that statement.  
"Well he said it to dad." The boy blushed a bit. "I overheard."  
Thomas looked at him to continue.  
"Dad was talking about his gift to heal people and Richie said that he couldn't be what people wanted him to be, that he was nothing more than an immortal who just happened to be able to heal people."  
Joe rubbed his chin. "Interesting... like Cassandra's psychic gifts... only they sound more advanced..." His mutterings were mainly to himself.  
The boy didn't seem to have heard those words.  
"And then he saw those kids and he said they'd die if he didn't do something. And they called them in and ..." the boy was almost getting out of breath through his blabbering. "It was like ... wow. One moment those kids were ... like if they were going to break apart, the next ..."  
Joe whistles shrilly.

"Mike, after Cody ... came back. Did ... have you seen him get hurt after that, scratched, anything?"  
"He hurt his knee after skateboarding. Mom looked like if she were going to burst. All yelling that he had to be more careful, that he should thank god for the miracle he'd received and all that."  
"Is his knee all right?"  
"Well there's a huge crust on it and it's all blue. You should have heard him yell when mom was taking care of it this morning."  
"Thank god."  
Tom got poked again.  
Tom just glared at Joe. Well he had reason to be happy. If Cody was wounded, then he wasn't an immortal and then ...  
He just felt he had to get proof, any proof. Just to make sure one last time. 

***** 

Richie lay on the couch in his best impression of a slug, moaning a little with an ice-pack on his forehead and a cold cloth across his eyes. If he hadn't been nauseous, he probably would've been starving half to death, as he hadn't eaten anything since before he healed Cody. The problem wasn't that he hadn't gotten anything to eat. Mrs. Linden had been trying to get him to eat since then; it was that he just couldn't get it in. He was to shocked by what had happened to really eat.  
He felt someone replace the ice-pack and looked up.  
"Richie... you have a visitor." Mrs. Linden said softly. 

Richie got up, feeling slightly dizzy. He could barely believe his eyes.  
"Joe?!"  
He got up to fast and almost fell again.  
"Joe!" he repeated. "Oh god you're here and ... Does Mac know where I am?" the last words were said with a near amount of fear in his voice.  
"Don't worry, I didn't say a word to him." Joe said gently.  
"I don't want her to hurt him. Her or Kaine. She wasn't to happy with him, she wouldn't even let me go help him or anything."  
"Her?" He looks confused.  
"Mother" Richie nearly whispered the words. "She sent Kaine to get me when Mac ..." Richie choked for a second.  
"Her name is Jo'lon, most people call her the Liliaeth."  
"Jo'lon.. you mean Methos' mom?"  
"What?!!!" 

****

Chapter 6

Methos was one of his brothers? Richie nearly fell as he heard those words. He'd known Jo'lon was older than Methos, it was hard to miss that one, but this ...  
He blinks. "You... didn't know?"  
"She didn't mention him when I was at her place." He stopped flat for a second.  
"She must have known I knew him. Wouldn't she? She knew everything else about me."  
"Richie, slow down. Begin at the beginning, from when..." He made a small motion with one hand.  
"Uh yes. When I ... when Kaine took me." Richie gulped for a second.  
"Kaine?" Joe looked confused. He had heard that name somewhere else, but he couldn't quite place it...  
"Last time I saw you, Horton was keeping a gun pointed at your head. You were in his car and I barely had time to tell Mac I was following you before I had to race after you."  
Joe looked up. 

"You saw me with Horton? But he never... He remembered the short phone call he'd overheard  
"Mac left after you, he didn't mean to Richie."  
"I know. I saw them. He was fighting against two ... I don't know how to put it now. There was this one guy in a weird Halloween outfit and another... another who looked just like me, closer than a twin."  
"Wow... Ahriman went to a *lot* of trouble..."  
"Yeah well, next thing I know, everything goes black, and I see a second double of me heading up towards Mac. Kaine told me he somehow took control of some young immortal and altered, morphed whatever you want to call it, his face to make it look like mine." Richie looked up at the old Watchers face.  
"He had someone killed to get me out Joe. He purposefully sent someone to his death just to fool Ahriman."  
"Well, whoever this Kaine is, he probably didn't want anything to happen to *you*."  
"That's what he said. Then again, Kaine isn't human, he doesn't give a damn about anyone that doesn't matter to his mother. At least she cares somewhat. He's a vampire, the first vampire." Joe let out a hiss of breath. "And man can he be a sonova ..."

Richie took a deep breath. "I woke up at mothers place." He sat down, holding his head in pain. "I always thought Mac was hard as a teacher, all that discipline and running and ... then Jo'lon started and Macs regime seemed like summer camp compared to it."  
The older Watcher whistled shrilly.  
"Let's just say it wasn't just her sharing her Quickening with me, that made me stronger than ever before"  
Joe stared at him not understanding. "First time I saw her, it was like ... parts of her Quickening just started hitting me, bashing into me. It was like nothing I've ever faced before. I think that's where the healing comes from. The healing and these..."  
Richie showed his hand to Joe. At first sight it seemed normal, then Richie opened his hands, and Joe could see claws jump out like with a cat.  
It was only then that Joe noticed the fanglike teeth in the young immortals mouth.  
"Yow! Jesus!" Joe yelped, skittering back.  
"She says I'm turning into a Dograi."  
"A Neanderthal." Joe whispered, remembering the modern meaning of the ancient term from his one and only encounter with the Liliaeth.  
"That sounds so ... prehistoric." The boy seemed almost disgraced at the term.  
"Maybe so, but..."  
"I know, I know ... official terms and all that. It's just that they're still around, because of mother and we, she always uses Dograi. Anyway, then she told me why she's training me and I got the hell out of that place."  
"Why was she training you?"  
"No way, not telling that one. It's to embarrassing."  
Joe cocks an eyebrow, and looks at Reverend Linden. The priest just shrugged.

"Not that kind of embarrassing." Richie suddenly interjected.  
"She thinks I'm a fucking mixture of Jesus Christ, Buddha, and ever kind of messiah like teacher that ever lived. She wants me to win the Prize Joe. To rule the world and all that nonsense. Can you believe that she was actually planning to have me take her head as soon as she was finished. She wanted me to kill her. I can't do that, none of it."  
"Holy shit..." The watcher had to fight to shut his mouth.  
"I won't go back."  
"I can understand why. That's an awful lot to be thrust upon you like that."  
"uhuh."  
Outside, another car pulls up, and a very loud British voice rises in anger, telling people to 'get the bloody hell out of his way'.

****

Chapter 7

Xander looked a bit embarrassed as his two partners in crime waded their way through the crowd with a complete lack of respect for the people. How did he ever got into this situation, in love with a 1000 year old ex-demon and traveling with the most cynical 5000 year old man you could ever imagine.  
It seemed like if they weren't going to get through. The sheriff wouldn't let them. It was understandable, but quite a hinder as well.  
He took the Orb in his hand and concentrated. A light radiated out of it and soon a gap was created right up to the door.  
Methos frowned at him. "Xander... *don't* do that again."  
"Do what?"  
He looked down at the crystal. "*That*."

Xander stared at the crystal and shrugged.  
"What's wrong with it? I can't seem to get rid of the thing, so why not use it." Xander didn't mention the fact that each time he tried to take it of, a burst of pain hit him in the chest, as if he'd die, if he'd lose it.  
He sighed. "Just be careful. We don't need people to start worshipping *you*, too."  
"No chance of that. Last time I got called a demon for over 20.000 years." Xander wasn't even aware that he'd taken one of Asmodeus' memories as his own. They knocked the door. At first no one opened, then they came face to face with a tall man of about 40, the reverend it seemed.  
"Mr. Linden? Can Richie come out to play?" Methos asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
Inside Richie looked up at Methos, his older brother. His Quickening flared around him as he stood up.  
"I'm not going back." he repeated once again.  
"I don't intend to take you back." He said softly.  
"Good. Cause I'm not going."  
The Quickening burst went back inside the young immortal as he headed up to the kitchen and kneeled down next to the fridge. "Feel like a beer?"  
"Please! I'm parched." Methos walked in and bent over to look into the fridge curiously.  
Anya rolled her eyes. "Thank the lower beings for that. He's been nagging for a beer all the way down from Sunnydale."  
Richie stared up at the young blonde, wondering what it was that felt off with her.  
"Ignore her, Rich." Methos said dryly.  
"Who are they?  
"Blondie over there is Anyanka, formerly known as the patron saint of women scorned, the goofball with the big ball around his neck is Xander." Methos smirked a little. "He's in as much of a hurry to meet mom as you are."

Thomas stared at them. "Pierson? What the hell is he doing here?"  
The watcher had heard that Pierson had turned out immortal, but how had the former watcher gotten involved in this mess. Rumor around headquarters did hold that he was a student of MacLeod's.  
"Its a *very* long story."  
"Don't ... just don't."  
The man lifted his hands and scowled at the group.  
Anya sat down on the couch and grabbed Xanders shirt, pulling him down next to her.  
He 'oofed' a little as he sat down.  
She got closer to him.  
"So we found him, you protect him and can we go upstairs and have sex. It's been hard imagining it while we were in the car with the old guy."  
He blushed deeply. "Ehhhh...!"

********

Eric wasn't sure what to think. Things had been so weird the past few days, and these strangers didn't really help things.  
He looked at his brothers friend, Richie seemed to trust Dawson and the other ones ... well he didn't seem to be afraid of them any more.  
He poured himself a bourbon and offered some of it to the others. The black haired man refused, he was staring at his beer, the bottle was already empty.  
The stranger muttered something and returned to the fridge.  
Eric got the distinct feeling that he'd be out of beer within the day, he made a mental note to send Mike for a few more six-packs. He hoped the man wasn't planning to drive.

The stranger popped the cap off with his thumb, sending it ricocheting back behind the fridge before taking a long drink.  
The minister took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. These were guests, friends of Richie, ... he had to stay calm, stay calm, he could do it.  
"So mister... what did you say your name was again..." the minister tried.  
"Pierson, sir. Adam Pierson." He glanced at Richie, nodding very faintly.  
"Yes. Off course ..."  
At that point Richie seemingly lost control and fell in, he was shivering, out of control. The black haired man got up to him.  
He hugged Richie gently, stroking his back.  
Richie stared into the mans eyes, the trembling increased. It was as if he was seeing something that wasn't there.  
"You were of Ahriman but you fought him. You were of the Horsemen but you fought their goals." the boy whispered.  
He nodded.  
"I saw you. You rode with them and you did things, horrible things ..."  
Eric stared at the man even more fervently.  
"Why would Death stand up for life?" the boy whispered finally  
"Because..." Methos whispered. "I choose to."  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Eric could no longer hold in, he had to know.  
"Its very complicated, sir."  
"Complicated?" the minister regained control. "Are you a threat to either Richie, my children or my people?"

Methos stood there for a second, facing him, then he shook his head.  
"But you were, once, weren't you." he recognized the look on the mans face, the look that had shown when the Horsemen where first mentioned. He'd seen it on the face of men who'd committed crimes yet where trying to atone for them  
"Once... a very, *very* long time ago..."  
"Tell me about it."  
"I'm not entirely certain I should speak of it."  
"Why not? How can I know if I can trust you if you don't?"  
"Because you may not trust me if I *do*."

Eric stared at the man in shock. "Tell me one thing, do you or do you not regret what you have done? God is a god of forgiveness. If you truly regret your past actions, he would not hold them against you. And neither would I."  
The reverend looked him in the eye as he said those words, meaning every single one of them.  
Methos's lips started twitching. He couldn't help it; a few moments later he was laughing outright.  
The reverend looked at him, shocked.  
"You find this funny mister Pierson?"  
"N-no, not at all..." he wiped his eyes carefully. "Only ironic. I doubt you would have said that if you knew who I was and what I've done."  
"Tell me then. I always like to be amused."  
He got ready to take another bourbon. "Besides, I hate it when I don't get the joke."  
"I was one of four men who rode across two continents, killing and pillaging as we went."  
"Four men?" The reverend suddenly remembered the boys words. "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Death ..." for a moment he was stunned.  
The dark-haired man, Death, nodded slowly. The reverend poured in his drink. He took another long drink from his beer, watching the Rev. thoughtfully.  
"Alright. That's pretty big. I presume that is as bad as it gets."  
He nodded. "Pretty much."  
"And now you expect me to throw you out of the house, call you evil or something like that?"  
Methos seemed surprised.  
"You forget Mister Pierson. I am a priest. It's my job, my duty to try and help all who require my aid. You, like any other sinner, deserve the right of gods forgiveness. It is not up to me to judge you for your crimes. As I said, as long as you regret them and do anything you can to atone for them, I can not hate you for them."  
He blinked, completely boggled. Methos didn't understand the mortal, didn't he understand what he'd just said? He looked at Joe, the watcher just shrugged.  
"Bloody wonderful." he muttered.


	3. Prophecies and all that nonsense

Part Three

Part Three 

Chapter One 

Duncan twisted and turned in his bed. Methos Quickening has left a while ago.   
It still wasn't back.   
Good. 

He got up and stared into the darkness. He couldn't stay in the bed anymore. Even now he could smell the stench. As he opened the curtains he could see the sun fade into red. The shadow on his hands reminded him once again. The cruelty those hands had done. The horrors. Starting with Richie and ending ...   
Oh God what had he done? How could anyone live with this? Methos had refused to take his head, again.   
Was he so filthy, so evil that even the former Horseman didn't want him inside of him.   
His evil, his madness. The Highlander stared at his reflection in the window.   
'How can I possibly go on.   
How do they expect me too just pick up life as if nothings out of the ordinary. I can't. Not now'   
He opened the door. It made a little noise, squeaking softly. He stared around the corner, checking if anyone was there. There wasn't. Most people seemed to have gone. The other immortals, the kid, the girls. He'd seen them all. They'd been watching him. He'd stared past them, but he'd known they were there.   
It was good they were gone. He didn't think he could stand to be amongst people now. Their compassionate fronts hiding their disgust. Or was it his own feelings that were reflected in their eyes. 

There were two men talking in the kitchen. The Highlander ignored them on his way to the bathroom. He stared into the mirror. Was that truly his face? He felt dirty, violated. The demon had loved to do the very things he knew Duncan hated. The more he remembered them, the filthier he felt. Men, women, children. None had been safe. He felt a presence entering his sensing range. He didn't know why, but for some reason, he was sure it wasn't Methos. He kept rubbing himself nearly till bleeding. The feeling of dirt, of blood, it wouldn't go away. Not this time.   
"It won't help."   
The voice sounded young. He didn't turn to it. He could see his reflection in the mirror though. The monster Loki, hiding behind an innocent face.  
"You would know." was all he finally said. His voice carrying his disbelief. How could this guy understand.   
A hand grabbed hold of his bare shoulder, forcing him around. "Pal, I killed thousands of people. Hundreds of thousands. Men, women, children. It didn't matter. Anyone that had the misfortune of being in my path. I tortured, raped and abused for no reason, but a rush of a Quickening at the end. I was so addicted to it, that I even killed people that I'd loved for millennia. So don't tell me I don't know what I'm talking about. And you know MacLeod. I couldn't even blame my madness on a demon. It was all me." 

MacLeod was in doubt. His heart raged between a righteous anger and the knowledge that he of all people no longer held the right to judge. Not any more. "Methos saved me from that. He left the Horsemen to stop me." the boy smiled a bit wryly. "Well that and because he got bored out of his mind with them."   
The boys chuckle filled the small room. "Anyway MacLeod. I know exactly what it feels like. You're so disgusted with yourself that you don't think you can go on, that the merest idea of a memory makes you hate yourself for what you've done. But it will pass. There will be a day that you will be able to look in the mirror again and see just you. You can no longer be whom you were, but you can learn to live with who you are now. I promise."   
"He's right you know." Neither of the two immortals had noticed the vampire opening the door. Looking at them, listening. "You can't let Ahriman destroy you. No matter what your body did. It wasn't you."   
Duncan wanted to lash out at them. To force them away, to forget their words and go back into the pit of despair. It had been comforting in a way. But he knew he couldn't. He didn't even noticed the dark haired mans lack of a reflection. 

*******

Spike was pouring the bottle into his cup. His mother had just brought him a package. A six-pack straight from Toronto. Six bottles of pure human blood. The finest of his uncle Lucius' stock. He got ready to really enjoy it. Lucien LaCroix always got the best. The Weetabix mixed nicely with the blood. He whistled a bit as he took his bowl to the TV-set and sat down for his favorite soap.   
What? Yes vampires, at least some of them, watched soap. You had to do something to keep from going crazy during daytime. 

"Oh come on you bloody moron. Get some sense into that head of yours."   
"Poor Spikey, won't the evil TV-people do what you want them too?"   
Buffy sat down at the diner table. She was sharpening some stakes.   
"Have you seen Cordelia?"   
"Nope, ain't seen her, heard her or ate her since she arrived."   
Spike wasn't sure but he could hear her mutter something that vaguely sounded like ... 'to bad'. He could be wrong of course.   
"So what's the problem? I thought you'd be hanging around the big poof. The Irish one."   
"I ... I don't know what to say to him. I love him ... As much as ever, but this close after losing Riley... It wouldn't be right. Besides It'd only put me up for more heart ache when at the end we have to say our goodbyes again. As it always is. She cut another slice of wood. "Me and men,." the slice rolled up a bit.   
"I never seem to just luck out you know. Never ever. It's almost as if I'm the one that's cursed."

"Oh come on. It can't be that bad."  
"Oh no?" She tapped the severely diminished head of the stake on the table.  
"First Pike. Him and me against the vampires. Or so he said.  
He left me without a word." She tapped the table again.  
"Owen ..." she sighed. "All he wanted was some adventure. I couldn't risk it." Another tap.  
"And then there's Angel." Silence breaks out after that name.  
"Do you know what it felt like, having to fight him. His going evil."  
She held the stake in both hands. Her knife taking of another slice of wood.  
"I loved him so much. And there was nothing I could do. Nothing ..." the stake broke as it hit the table.  
"I tried to deal, to date other guys. It just ... it didn't work. It had no use. I couldn't get over him."

Spike put his blood on the table. Unsure what to do. Remembering his own feelings as Drusilla was swooning over Angelus. His love for her. How he had to leave her when she said she'd never lived for him. That all his dreams had been nothing but that, pretty dreams.  
His tries with Harmony, the joke that that had been. He'd never loved the dimwit, he just hadn't wanted to be alone.

"And then he came back and I was dating Scott. More as a 'Get back on the horse' -kinda thing than anything else. I know now how unfair it was to him. I still wanted Angel. Even when I said I couldn't be with him, that I was with Scott now, my heart still belonged to Angel."  
"The bloody poof does have that effect on people, doesn't he?"  
"Like Drusilla?"  
Spike chuckled a bit. She didn't know the half of it.  
"Yep sure, like her."  
"And then he told me he had to leave. That we couldn't be together any more. It was too dangerous. It was as if I died."

**Chapter Two **

Giles sat back in his chair, enjoying for the moment his chance to use his favorite piece of furniture in the house. With the kids constantly running around. He barely had any chance at just normal, calm, relaxing .... Then Cordelia came in and placed herself at the table, loudly claiming her anger at Angel for staying around Buffy. The young stranger listening to her seemed to just let it pass. Giles wondered where he could get those kind of earplugs.

He wondered how he could ever have forgotten the blabbermouth that was Cordelia Chase. Then he remembered Anya and thanked God that he only had to deal with Cordelia this time.  
At least she had some use to her group, being their link to the Powers that be. Compared to a certain former vengeance demon.

God knew what he had to put up with that woman, ... he grumbled a bit and kept staring at Cordelia. No matter how much he thought about it, it was still hard to grasp. If Angel were to be believed, Cordelia was a totally different person from the self concerned girl they'd known before. He'd halfway expect her to ask him for a cure for the visions. She hadn't. It seemed he'd underestimated her, maybe they all had.

The Watcher got up and poured himself some tea, adding a bit of brandy to the mix.  
He offered some to Cordelia and the young gentleman, what was his name? Gunn?  
Cordelia finally shut up, and Giles almost wished she started talking again. The silence that grew between them, seemed almost unnatural. Only when Wesley stepped into the room, did the silence break.

His arms were loaded with books. The younger man set them down on the table, reset his glasses and nodded slightly.  
"These should do for the time being. Thank you mister Giles."  
Giles just nodded and cringed as he saw the titles.  
"I will of course bring them back at the earliest possible opportunity."  
Giles just grumped. Giving his books a worried glance, almost ready to grab them back and make a break for it. He shivered, fearing he'd never see them again.   
"Of course."  
He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped of his glasses.  
  
Wesley just sat down, a way to serious look in his eyes.  
"I could not believe I had not heard of the prophecy before. It is truly quite fascinating."  
He looked almost in awe.  
"And its source. The legendary Lilith herself."  
Wesley looked down as he reset the glasses.

In the end times,   
when all the eternal warriors gather,   
a Child shall be born,   
a Child of fire blood

And the Child shall be loved

And the Child shall be abandoned

And the Child shall be alone

But as the child finds the warrior it shall regain love

Once shall it regain love, twice shall it regain love

And the Child shall face death, and it shall face darkness

And the Child shall be hope

And the Child shall be light

And as it walks through the valleys of death it shall not be touched

It shall not loose its purity.

It shall not loose its love

And through its love it shall be redeemed

Once shall it die,   
twice shall it die,   
three times shall it die   
and the fourth shall call the darkness

And the darkness shall come and protect the light 

And the Child shall find its mother

Once was it loved,   
twice was it loved,   
three times was it loved   
and the fourth shall seal its fate

And he shall be one,   
first ones,   
Child of night, 

And he shall be two,   
those who walk the   
day and worship the sun,

And he shall be three,   
those who touch, but do not feel,   
those who see, but do not feel

And all three shall be one and as such he shall be four.

And those who are death yet walk,   
those who are death yet speak,   
those who are death yet live...   
shall fear his touch

For as his name,   
as his life,   
as his light is holy,   
so is his touch

And all who gather shall die but two

Two shall remain, one of light, one of darkness.

And in it roam two paths,

one of hope, one of despair

And the Child of Purity shall unite them all   
take away all sin, all hate, all fear, all hunger, all darkness.

No demon shall roam to harm,

no sickness shall plague mortal kind

And death shall be the beginning

So has it been said,   
So has it been spoken,   
So has it been chanted,   
So has it been written  
In the End there can be only one

He turned the words that the younger Watcher had recited over and over in his head. It made something in the back of his mind itch, as though something about it was familiar.  
He thought about it further, remembering what he knew about certain supernatural beings in their world. And it struck him. "Oh... shit..."  
He went ghostly pale.  
Wesley nearly dropped the book as he saw the look on the older watchers face.

"Methos ... he knew about this."   
Giles got up, and started going up to his bookcase.  
"The damn immortal bastard knew and he still left. No wonder he took Xander with him."  
Wesley stared at him, completely not understanding what was so important about that.  
"The boy he went for, you remember the call. The new saint ... a holy man" he corrected himself. "A holy child."

He paced with the book, after pulling it from Wesley's hands.  
"And those who are death yet walk,   
those who are death yet speak,   
those who are death yet live...   
shall fear his touch.  
  
For as his name,   
as his life,   
as his light is holy,   
so is his touch

He knew exactly who he was looking for and he believes it, every word of it."  
"The coming messiah." Wesley whispered.

"Get the others together," Giles said softly.

Wesley was still trying to overcome his shock.  
"The savior foretold in every religion on earth. An American boy named Richie. Even TV wouldn't assume this."  
Neither of them noticed Duncan in the back, listening to their every word.  
He shook his head slightly. "And even if it did, the writer would have to have a very twisted mind."  
"God don't give them any ideas."  
Giles smiled faintly.

"What can we do?"  
Wesley really didn't have an idea. He was too baffled to do anything.

"We should probably get the rest of the group together, and see about finding more of the prophecy."  
"Why?" Cordelia interfered. "I don't understand. What more do we need? We got Jesus Christ coming back right? Shouldn't we just be happy and rejoice and prepare for the coming Armageddon?"  
She turned to Gunn. "Do you think it would help if I started going to church?"

"Jesus Christ pales in comparison, Cordelia."  
"Yes." Wesley reset his glasses. "This is not just some teacher Cordelia. It is the King of Kings. If this ... prophecy comes to pass ... we could end up either living heaven on earth, or the bleakest hell that even demons can't imagine."

Cordy paled a bit under her perfect tan.  
"This Child of Purity ... will have the power to alter reality, in a way, that is beyond human comprehension."  
"But if he loses ..."  
Wesley didn't dare continue the sentence.  
She paled further, and swallowed loudly, feeling a little sick to her stomach all of a sudden.  
"But he's on our side right?"  
"If he weren't, he wouldn't be called the Child of Purity, right?" Gunn offered.  
"Not necessarily."  
Duncan rested his back against the wall. He was starting to get an idea to wild to imagine. An idea that couldn't be real. Richie, alive?

"All evidence in this portion of the prophecy, however, suggests that he's on our side. Or, at least, on whatever side the Powers that Be have put him on."

Wesley took on his formal voice.  
"And that is why we need the rest of the prophecy. We need to be certain. If we are to offer our aid to him, we need to know who we are helping."

"Which means we're going to go find the rest of the pieces. Prophecies are often several books long, and it may take us a while to find all the books." Giles held a finger up. "Which is why we should get Buffy and Spike and the others and set to work. We may only have a small amount of time to make our choice."

**Chapter 3 **

Temlan held his wife in his arms. Carrying her weight was a pleasure he was happy to take as her cheek rested against his naked chest.  
He let his fingers play through her curls and leaned back in his pillow. It came up over his ears, nearly dampening the sound of the phone. He ignored the sound and just layed back, refusing to wake Lilin from her sleep.  
She looked so innocent.  
He whispered sweet nothings in her ear and she moaned softly as the warm breath hit her eardrums.

She was so familiar, so much a part of him. How could he ever lose her? But as the Game approached the Gathering, the chance of losing her came ever closer.  
Would he ever have to take her head, to slit that perfect neck of hers. Or would he be able to let lay down his sword and let her take his. He didn't think so, yet...

Why couldn't it just be a myth?  
Maybe it was. Maybe the prophecies weren't real and things never need to change.  
  
Lilin, Methos.  
In the end he'd rather take their Quickenings himself than to let a stranger do it.  
Maybe he should just get it over with, do it now.  
He kept brushing through her curls.  
Prevent the pain, close himself of from everything and finish the Gathering. Making sure the few people he actually still cared about had nothing but happy memories.  
To make their endings swift, painless. Acts of love.  
He closed his eyes, wondering what it would be like to have them both inside his head, their thoughts, their souls,... He brushed his lips past her neck, tasting it, touching out for the Quickening inside of her.  
"Mi chikir. My love."  
She leaned in closer, unconsciously trying to join with him already.  
It would be so much, so sweet, to be one in body as well as in mind.  
He caressed her skin, holding her close.  
To be one.  
Maybe  
He fell asleep, ignoring the telephone that was ringing again.

******

The horn slammed down hard.  
Giles nodded a slow no, as to the others silent question.  
"So that leaves just us."  
Buffy overlooked the people in the room.  
Willow and Tara who held hands on Giles couch. Angel who was trying desperately not to stare at either Buffy who sat on the low table or Spike who sat on the ground at her feet. The vampire was grinning at his grandsires unease.  
Cordelia and Gunn stopped their chat and looked up as well, while Wesley stood next to Giles near the phone.  
  
"Can I help?"  
They all stared up at Duncan. The Highlander had cleaned himself up for the first time in days. His pose was hesitant and his voice slightly shaking, almost unsure about his welcome.  
Buffy just threw him a book.  
"Join up. We got us some reading to do."

******

Cordelia kept loosing her page, just staring at Spike, ... helping.  
What the hell was the vampire planning up? He'd tried to kill them, several times. So why did everyone just accept him, not just his presence, but his help as well?  
She really was no longer used to this. The reading hurt her eyes.  
She stared up at Willow and Tara who were whispering as they were both going through some of the bigger books in Giles collection. Then she looked at the laptop that Willow was 'so' not using.

She shuffled out of her seat and tried to remember some of the best and most of all, real, websites on demonology and prophecies.  
Willow noticed, but though slightly surprised, she didn't object.  
Angel just gave her one of his killer grins.  
One of those, I'm proud of you little sister grins. It made her glow a bit, knowing she was doing the right thing.

*****

"Xander, get us some donuts."  
Giles barely held in the words, to used to them and remembering barely in time that one, Xander wasn't here and two, even if he had been here, his Atlantean memories were to important to waste on a donut run.  
He inched away a bit as the Highlander came back with another of his books. Shivering slightly at the immortals presence, though glad that the man knew several languages he wasn't really fluent in himself.

The former watcher could barely believe that Cordelia was actually being useful. Searching through religious databases, to find references to the prophecy. So far they'd had thousands of matches.  
The hard part would be to separate the useful from the nonsense. All those online games did not exactly make things easier. Especially since so many of them centered around fantasy words, based on prophecies.  
"Gunn, go get us some donuts."  
The young black man seemed almost relieved to get away when Wesley gave him the order.  
"Don't forget Jelly donuts. Giles called after him, before the others started yelling their orders. He hoped the poor boy wouldn't mix it up. He was so in the mood for a jelly donut with chocolate sprinkles. Xander at least knew everyones favorites.

Spike stretched out, moaning a bit.  
Giles wondered when the vampire had become a part of the group. Was it when his mother started reminding him to wear new clothes every once and awhile? When Xander and him got into a long talk about the disadvantages of still living with your parents?  
Maybe it was that talk he overheard between the two of them when Xander mentioned that he feared for his father at times after Spike was moaning about Temlan threatening him.

No, it had to be that day when Spike just showed up. No nefarious reasons, no need for money or blood, he just showed up with a box of everyone's favorite donuts as if to say he'd noticed.  
Whenever it was, he'd gotten so much a Scooby that no one was surprised when he got up to the fridge and pulled out a package of blood.  
Angel noticed, but said nothing when Spike offered him a cup.  
It was cow of course.

Spike would never share his supply of human blood with his grandsire.  
And the blood was cold, where Spike had heated his own in the microwave, but other than that ... Spike was being perfectly polite ... for Spike.

*****

When had he turned in a soddin Scooby?  
Spike looked at the book in his hands and wondered when he had lost control of his own life.  
If you'd told him two years ago, that he'd end up at the slayers feet, playing her soddin pet, helping her ... he'd have killed you for it. Well he would have done so anyway, but you get the idea.  
Now ... he was happy with it?  
What kind of a demon was he?  
He stared at the book again.  
"And through darkness, the lamb shall be taken.  
It shall feed on the darkness, yet darkness shall not fill it."  
Feed, to feed, food ...  
Hungry.  
He took a sip from his blood, it was just not the same.  
The human blood his uncle Lucius sent was a little better, but not by much. It missed something.  
  
It wasn't just the feel of fear, it was the ability to see that fear, to battle in the sensation of taking a person and killing him. This blood was just so bloody clean.

Dad understood that. Old Loki might not be a demon, but he could get the lust for blood better than anyone. It's why he despised Spike so much. The demon part that is. Because he could feel the same lusts for destruction in himself and he didn't like to be reminded of that.  
"And through all who gather, blood shall pour like rain."  
He needed real blood damn it! He sipped his lips, touching the taste of his drink.  
This bloody well better not go on like this... this was worse than watching a pornflick in getting him all worked up.  
It was making him bloody hungry, that's what it did.

Buffy had her finger in between her lips. He could hear her suck it. The strong muscles in her legs played up as she swung them back and fourth.  
"Keep still will ya Slayer. You nearly hit me there."

She lowered down, her green eyes glittering in good humor.  
"And here I was thinking you'd be happy to be hit on for a change."  
The gleam increased.  
"Don't girls generally run away when they see that signpost you call your hair."  
Spike glared back.  
"It's better than that face of yours." he smirked.  
"No wonder demons run like hell when they see you. All that make up would make anyone sodd of."  
She grabbed his head, pulling it back, closer to hers.  
"Oh really?"  
Nothing could give him more satisfaction than the look in his grandsires eyes at their ribbing around. It almost, almost made up for hanging with the loserbrigade.

******

Lilin woke up with the sunlight shining in her eyes. It reflected on Temlans face, blurring his familiar looks for her sleepdazed vision. He almost glowed on the dark satin sheets.  
"What time is it?" she slurred out, barely believing his answer.

The young looking immortal let her head drop down on his chest.  
He just whispered his love for her.  
"I love you too."

Lilin smiled and moved her fingers through the mess of curls that was supposed to be her hair. The girl was almost spinning in pleasure at the touch of his hand, at the sensation of his fingers on her small breasts.

She had to work to open her eyes. Finally she blinked a few times. Her knees hit his and she pulled her legs in between his.  
"I'll always love you." She whispered. 

There was something, a look in his eyes as their eyes finally met. She just blamed it on the reflection of the sun, on the blanket of sleep that still covered her merely half awoken brain.

The immortal girl grinned softly, half aware as she kissed him. Their lips touching.  
"What time is it?" she asked again.  
"No idea."  
She stared outside, almost shocked at the hour and pounced his shoulder.  
"Why in the name of the goddess didn't you wake me?

Temlan just kissed her, grabbing her lips to firmly for her to even try and talk. Lilin pushed him down and leaned over him.  
"I love you."

He just smiled as her lips touched his neck.


End file.
